Finally,
I have met
my distress well!
The rolling years
had kneaded
my soul.

The deserted patch
I choose now,
is not a hermit’s cell.
It is a new roofless spot.
The best spot.

I will copy
all the light
which I had lost:
when I had fallen.

To transcend!
I will go beyond
the debris walls—
where, my growing years,
and their thought-process
with me, will grow…

Geeta Chhabra